Unwritten Fate [BL]-Chapter 26: "In the Quiet"

The walk back to the house was quiet—too quiet. The village still buzzed around them, people chatting, merchants calling out deals, the occasional laughter from children darting between stalls. But between Billy and Artur, there was nothing.

Billy stole a glance at him. Artur's steps were firm, his shoulders set, but his face was unreadable. He wasn't looking at Billy—not once.

Something about that gnawed at him.

Billy exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're awfully quiet."

Artur didn't respond immediately. His jaw flexed slightly, but his eyes stayed forward.

Billy tried again. "If you're mad, you should just say it."

Artur's steps faltered—just for a second—before he kept walking. "I'm not mad." His voice was even. Too even.

"Billy's frown deepened, a sharp edge to his voice. 'Really? Or are you just hiding it so well?'"

Still, Artur didn't bite.

Billy let out a frustrated breath. His feet kicked a loose stone down the dirt path. "Okay. Then why are you acting weird?"

"Artur's fingers curled, his knuckles pale as if holding onto something he didn't want to let go of. 'I'm not,' he said, but the words felt too light to hold any truth."

"Billy stopped. 'You are, Artur.' Artur faltered but kept walking, glancing over. 'Billy—'_

Billy crossed his arms. "You've barely looked at me since we ran into you. And before that, you grabbed Jay's hand like—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Just say whatever's on your mind."

Artur's jaw tightened, but he didn't speak right away. The wind picked up slightly, rustling through the trees.

Billy sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, if you think Jay's annoying, I get it. He pushes buttons. But if it's about earlier—"

"It's not about him," Artur said suddenly, his voice lower, firmer.

Billy blinked. "Then what?"

Artur's lips parted slightly, but he didn't answer. His fingers twitched—once, twice—before tightening against his arms, as if holding something back.

Billy's stomach twisted at the silence. He didn't know why, but it did.

"Forget it," Artur muttered finally. "It doesn't matter."

Billy's chest tightened. "It does if it's bothering you."

Artur met his gaze then, and for a second—just a second—Billy saw something there. Something tangled. Frustration, maybe. Or something deeper.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

Artur turned away, his voice quieter now. "Nothing let's just go home."

Billy hesitated, the space between them stretching wider.

He didn't like it.

But he didn't know how to close it, either.

So, without another word, he followed.

The walk back to the house felt longer than before, though neither of them slowed their pace. The late afternoon sun hung lower now, casting golden streaks over the dirt path, but the warmth didn't reach the space between them. It stretched wide, silent, heavy.

Billy's fingers twitched at his side. He could still hear the echoes of Artur's voice—It's not about him.

Then what was it about?

Every time Billy glanced at him, Artur looked straight ahead, his expression locked in place. The grip on his arms had eased, but his shoulders still held that tension, like something braced tight inside him.

"Billy hated this silence. The air between them felt thick, almost suffocating. Why couldn't Artur just speak? He had always pulled away—no matter how close they got. Was Billy just fooling himself, thinking Artur might ever really open up?"

Billy clenched his jaw. "Are you gonna ignore me all day?"

Artur's steps didn't falter this time. "I'm not ignoring you."

Billy let out a frustrated breath. "Could've fooled me."

No response.

Billy rolled his shoulders, trying to shake the unease creeping under his skin. "You know, if I did something to piss you off, I'd rather you just tell me."

Artur's hands curled slightly. "You didn't."

"Then what is it?" Billy pressed. "Because you are acting weird. You barely said two words back there. And now—"

Artur suddenly stopped.

Billy almost walked right into him. He took half a step back, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Artur's head tilted slightly, like he was debating something. His hands twitched—like he wanted to reach for something but didn't.

For a second, Billy swore he saw it again—that thing behind Artur's eyes. Something tangled. Something unspoken.

But before Billy could place it, Artur let out a breath and turned away. " It's Nothing I said. Forget it."

A strange, restless weight pressed against Billy's ribs, coiling tight and unwelcome.

He didn't know why.

But he didn't like it.

And for some reason, the thought of forgetting it felt impossible.

Billy stared at Artur's back as he walked ahead, his footsteps heavier than before.

Forget it?

Billy's jaw tightened. Like hell I will.

The frustration clawed at his chest, hot and restless. Artur was shutting him out again—acting like nothing was wrong when it was so obvious something was.

Billy quickened his steps, falling into stride beside him. "That's it? That's all you're gonna say?"

Artur's gaze didn't shift. "What else do you want me to say?"

Billy scoffed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe why you've been acting off all day? Or why—"

Artur's footsteps stopped again.

Billy barely caught himself before stumbling. His breath hitched as Artur turned to him, gaze dark, unreadable.

"I told you already—it's nothing," Artur said, voice low.

Billy searched his face, trying to find some crack in that composure. Some sign of what was brewing underneath.

His fingers twitched at his side. "You don't get to do that," he muttered.

Artur's brow furrowed. "Do what?"

"Act like I'm imagining things." Billy took a step closer. "I know when something's wrong, Artur. You think I can't tell?"

Artur's hands curled into fists at his sides. His jaw clenched.

Billy could feel it—like something pressing between them, coiling tight, waiting to snap.

And then, before Billy could push further—

Artur exhaled sharply and turned on his heel. "Let's go."

Billy blinked. "Artur—"

But Artur was already walking again, his pace brisk, his shoulders stiff.

Billy let out a slow, frustrated breath before following.

The silence between them wasn't empty.

It was thick.

It was suffocating.

And Billy wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

The tension clung to them like the thick summer air—dense, inescapable. Billy walked a step behind Artur, watching the way his shoulders stayed tense, his hands shoved deep into his pockets as if physically holding something back.

The village sounds buzzed around them—chatter, distant laughter, the creak of wooden carts—but Billy barely heard any of it.

His focus was solely on him.

On the way Artur refused to look at him. On the way his jaw stayed clenched, as if trapping words he wouldn't say. On the way something between them had shifted, and neither of them were addressing it.

Billy's patience was thinning.

He quickened his pace, stepping in front of Artur, blocking his path. "Stop."

Artur stilled, his eyes flicking up in irritation. "What now?"

Billy exhaled, steadying himself. "You tell me."

Artur's gaze hardened. "We're going home."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

The silence between them crackled.

Billy could see the flicker in Artur's eyes—the way something stirred beneath the surface. A storm barely contained.

He could feel it.

He just didn't know if Artur was willing to let it out.

Billy took a step closer. "You're mad at me Aren't you?."

Artur scoffed. "Why would I be mad?"

Billy tilted his head. " I don't know," You tell me."

The words hung between them.

Artur's fingers twitched. His breathing deepened, but still, he wouldn't look at him.

Billy clenched his jaw. "You you're like...

His words trailed off. He wasn't even sure how to finish that sentence.

Like what?

Like he cared? Like he didn't like it? Like he—

Billy swallowed.

Artur's gaze finally met his, and for a split second.

Then,

Artur looked away.

Billy huffed a quiet laugh—disbelieving, exasperated.

"You always do this," he said, softer this time.

Artur's brows furrowed.

Billy stepped even closer. "You act like you don't care, but then you—"

He paused, searching Artur's face.

"Then you do things like that."

Artur's throat bobbed.

Billy could hear his own heartbeat—heavy, thick in his ears.

Artur didn't move. Didn't speak.

And Billy—Billy wasn't sure what he was expecting.

But whatever this was—this unbearable, suffocating pull between them—

It wasn't something he could ignore anymore.

Artur didn't answer.

"Billy watched him, noting the subtle tremble in Artur's fingers, the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his breathing steady. His lips parted, but no words came—just the tense, unsaid weight between them."

The silence between them deepened.

Billy exhaled sharply. "You're not even going to explain, are you?"

Artur's jaw tensed. His eyes flickered with something unreadable, something heavy, but still, he said nothing.

Billy took a slow step forward. "If you have something to say, say it."

Nothing.

Artur's grip tightened at his sides.

Billy's patience cracked.

"Damn it, Artur!" His voice was louder now, frustration bleeding into every word. "You pulled Jay away from me! You grabbed his wrist! Do you even realize how weird that was?"

Artur's breath hitched. His gaze flickered—hesitation, restraint, conflict, all warring at once.

Billy pressed on.

"You can't act like you don't care, then do something like that," he said, voice quieter now, steadier. "It doesn't make sense."

Artur swallowed, his throat moving slowly.

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually say something.

His lips parted—

Then he turned away.

Billy's stomach twisted.

Of course. Of course.

Artur was shutting down again, locking up, doing that thing he always did—pushing Billy away while pretending nothing was wrong.

"Billy clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. 'I don't get you,' he muttered, shaking his head. His voice cracked slightly as he added, 'One second, we're fine, and the next... you shut me out.' He stopped, his chest tightening as the words left him.

'Forget it,' he whispered, the hurt lingering more than the words."

He turned away, his chest tight, his thoughts a mess.

But just as he moved to leave, just as he took one step forward—

He felt it.

A hand, wrapping around his wrist.

Firm.

Unshaking.

"Billy froze as Artur's grip closed around his wrist—surprisingly firm, as though holding onto something that might slip away if he let go.

The warmth of his touch shot through Billy, igniting something in his chest. Artur's fingers tightened, a silent plea in the pressure."

And for the first time, Artur was looking at him.

The grip on his wrist tightened—just for a second.

Then, so quietly it was almost a whisper—

"...Don't go."

Billy's breath caught.

Artur's fingers curled slightly against his skin, like he didn't want to let go, his thumb unconsciously brushing Billy's skin.

Billy's heart pounded.

He looked up, meeting Artur's eyes—

And what he saw there made his pulse stutter.

Billy's breath came shallow, unsteady. The warmth of Artur's grip lingered against his skin, a quiet but undeniable presence, as if even now, he wasn't ready to let go.

He wasn't sure what stunned him more—the words Artur had just spoken or the way they felt against his skin, lingering even after they were said.

Artur wasn't looking away this time.

His eyes held something unreadable—something raw, something real.

Billy swallowed. "You—" He hesitated. "You're—"

He didn't even know what he was trying to say.

Because Artur had never done this before.

Never reached out. Never stopped him. Never held onto him like this.

And it did something to him.

Billy's pulse thundered in his ears.

"...Why?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Artur's fingers twitched against his wrist.

The question hung between them, heavy and unmoving.

Billy searched his face—searched for anything, some kind of explanation, some kind of answer.

But Artur's grip loosened suddenly.

Artur moved.

Not away.

Closer.

Billy barely had time to react before he felt it—Artur's hand, brushing against his knuckles.

Not gripping. Not pulling.

Just there.

A hesitation. A pause.

And then, a quiet, hoarse whisper—so soft it almost disappeared into the wind:

"... Stay."

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"Don't leave."

Billy's breath hitched.

The weight of that single word sank into his chest like a stone.

"And for the first time, he saw it. Not anger. Not irritation.

Something deeper.

Something that made his heart slam against his ribs.

Something he wasn't sure he was ready for."

Something hesitant. Something unspoken.

Something that made his pulse stutter.

Billy barely realized he wasn't moving anymore.

His feet had stopped.

His heart, though—

His heart was still racing.

The air felt heavier than before.

Billy wasn't sure if it was because of the way Artur's fingers lingered on his sleeve—or because of the way he hadn't pulled away.

He should.

He should say something.

But the words stuck in his throat.

Because Artur was still standing there. Still close. Still gripping onto the fabric like if he let go, something important might slip through his fingers.

Billy's chest ached.

"What do you want from me?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

Artur's jaw tensed. His fingers twitched but didn't release him.

For a moment, it seemed like he might actually answer.

Like he might finally stop shutting the door in Billy's face.

But then—

His grip loosened.

The warmth faded.

And when Billy looked at him—

Artur had already turned away.

The tension snapped, leaving behind an unbearable silence.

Billy exhaled sharply, a bitter chuckle slipping out before he could stop it.

"Right." His voice was tight, edged with something he didn't want to name. "Of course."

Artur's shoulders stiffened.

Billy swallowed against the knot in his throat.

He shouldn't be surprised.

This was always how it went.

Artur reaching out—only to pull away the second things got too real.

And Billy—foolishly—always waiting for something different.

His hands curled into fists at his sides. "You don't get to do this, you know."

Artur's back remained rigid.

Billy took a step closer. "You don't get to hold onto me like that—" His voice wavered, breath catching. "—and then act like it didn't happen."

Artur's breath was unsteady. His fingers twitched at his sides, but he still wouldn't turn around.

Billy let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Forget it," he muttered, throwing Artur's words back at him.

Then he turned.

And this time—

Artur didn't stop him.

Billy walked.

He didn't stop.

Didn't hesitate.

Didn't look back.

Each step felt heavier than the last, pressing into the dirt, into his chest, into something deeper that he couldn't quite name.

But he kept going.

Because Artur wasn't stopping him this time.

And that—

That was what made it worse.

The wind had picked up, rustling through the trees, sending a chill down Billy's spine. He clenched his fists, trying to shake the lingering sensation of Artur's touch.

It didn't work.

The quiet stretched, only broken by the sound of his own footsteps. The village was in sight now, the distant chatter of people carrying through the air, but it felt... off.

Like he wasn't really there.

Like part of him was still standing back in that field, waiting for something that was never going to happen.

By the time he reached the house, the weight in his chest had settled into something cold and unmoving.

He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

The room was empty.

Still.

Billy exhaled, pressing a hand to his forehead.

He didn't know what he was expecting.

Didn't know why he felt so—

So stupid.

With a sharp shake of his head, he moved to the wash basin, splashing cold water on his face. The shock of it helped—a little.

But it didn't wash away the feeling still twisting inside him.

It didn't erase the fact that Artur had let him go.

And worst of all—

It didn't erase the part of him that wished he hadn't.